In Grantville off the highway by the sea
The old man walks the mudflats every day
With hunched shoulders he slowly shuffles on
And he looks distinguished in his own quiet way.

With eyes cast down as if searching for something
I once asked local man I felt might know
Whatever is the old man searching for?
'His wife's lost wedding ring lost years ago'.

For two hours each day he search the man went on
For ring that has been lost ten years or more
For past ten years for two hours every day
He must have walked ten thousand miles of shore.

He made a promise to his dying wife
That before he'd die her lost ring he would find
For years he's searched these mudflats up and down
And thoughts of lost ring seldom leave his mind.

He must be at least eighty years I said
Quite close the man replied he's eighty two
For years he has been searching for her ring
And to his promise to her he keeps true.

I know at least of one devoted man
He's eighty two and his hair is silvery gray
And he keeps a promise to his long dead wife
By searching for her lost ring every day.

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